Cedar and Sycamore
by lostwithoutablogger
Summary: A Potterlock fan fic, beginning when John gets his Hogwarts letter. What would have happened if Sherlock and John had met when they were kids at Hogwarts together. Would things have been any different?
1. Chapter 1: Master Wandkeeper

John could still not quite believe that he had received his letter. It had come just two months ago, in a flurry of feathers and wings over breakfast. His father had been silent, as usual, and his mother, silently proud, if still a tad bemused about the whole situation, despite this being the second occurrence.

There had been the annual trip to Diagon Alley, but this time the robes and books that were bought were for himself too, not just his elder sister Harriet.

He smiled as he looked down at the large stack of books in his cauldron. Each looked more intriguing than the last. Some were gilded with sparkling paints, others contained intricate painted drawings depicting the effects of various spells and potions. And all were so crammed full of magic they felt almost alive.

"Last stop, Ollivanders" said his father, putting a heavy hand on John's shoulder.

"Ettie and I will just meet you at the Leaky Cauldron then dearest." chirped Elena Watson, with one of the sudden flashes of insight that made her so dear to her stern husband. And, taking her eldest child by the hand, despite her embarrassed protestations, walked briskly off towards the little pub.

Ormond Watson smiled fondly after her. He loved his wife. She understood that assisting one's son in the buying of his wand was a moment that every father treasured, and she did not begrudge him the opportunity to do it alone. And, after all, she was a muggle, and did not quite understand these things.

"Come" he said imperiously to John, and, turning in a billow of robes, headed in the opposite direction, his son hurrying along in his wake.

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They came to a halt outside Ollivanders. It had been many years since the shop had opened, and it was still running a raging business. Ormond remembered when it was just a tiny workshop, with a few battered shelves of wands. Now the store was ten times larger and the huge shelves towered over customers as they entered. And there, at the little desk at the front, sat the white haired man who was responsible for it all.

"Ah, young master Watson" he said delightedly as Ormond and John entered. "I thought I would be seeing you before too long," He stretched a shaking hand out to Ormond. "And Mr. Watson. I trust you are well?"

"Very well, Master Wandkeeper" said Ormond stiffly, using the old man's full title.

"Oh none of that, none of that." Said Ollivander irritably, waving a hand. "Now, young master" he said, looking at John properly for the first time. I suppose you'll be wanting a wand?

Ollivander creaked off, muttering to himself as John stood awestruck in the middle of the enormous room.. Shelves so tall they brushed the ceiling lined the walls and spit into rows around them Tall sliding ladders stood ready on steel poles that were fixed vertically along the top shelves.

Ollivander returned suddenly with an armful of boxes, which he laid carefully upon the desk. Assessing john with a glance, he lifted the topmost one and handed it to him with a slight bow. John looked askance at his father, who gave him a swift nod

John reached out and took the box lightly. Lifting off the lid he plucked the wand inside from its cushioned lining with trembling fingers. He barely had it in his grasp before it was whipped away by Ollivander.

"Definitely not, young master" he said softly. "Perhaps this one?" and he handed John a second box.

The wand that lay inside was shorter, and made of wood the colour of creamed honey. The handwritten label on the inside of the lid denoted it was made of cedar wood, and had a dragon heartstring core. Almost instantly John felt the difference. While the other wand had felt as alive as a plastic biro, this one almost buzzed with magic in his grasp.

"Oh yes" said Ollivander, sounding pleased. "Now just give it a little wave…"

John obediently did so, and a stream of azure stars shot out of the end of the wand.

"Cedar wood," said Ollivander "best suited to those of unusual loyalty and strength of character. Its pairing with dragon heartstring suggests its owner will be courageous beyond measure… I think that one will do Master Watson" he said thoughtfully. "I think that one will do very well indeed." And with a wink, he shuffled off towards the till.

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A/N

Hi there,

This is my first attempt at a Potterlock fan fiction, so its going to start a little slowly.

Regardless, I'd love to know what you think so far!

Next chapter will be published ASAP

x lostwithoutablogger

UPDATE:

Just to those who were wondering, I came up with John's father's name (Ormond) when I read an article which said that Ormond Sacker was the name that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was originally going to give John Watson. Just a little tribute to the man who started it all (and who thankfully made the right decision when he went with John Watson!)


	2. Chapter 2: Until you can't see them

CHAPTER 2: Until you can't see them.

A wall of noise assaulted John's ears as he and his father appeared on platform 9¾. Children ran everywhere and John could only see flashes of robes and colour as students in muggle and wizarding clothes alike sprinted past him, eager to reach choice compartments.

His mother and Ettie appeared behind him. Ettie said her goodbyes quickly, pecking her parents briefly on the cheek before melding into the crowd. She was used to this, but John was not.

"I'll see you soon" he said awkwardly, not quite sure how best to farewell them.

"Of course you will, love" said Elena, wrapping him up in a warm embrace. "Get Ettie to send us an owl when you get there dear" she said, and with a final kiss, she let him loose.

His father helped his lift his heavy trunk off the trolley and onto the train. John stepped up onto the train and looked back at him. His father had always been a stern and proud figure, unfailingly rigid in his beliefs of good conduct, and an unwavering enforcer of good manners. So John was surprised when he was given a warm smile. "Make us proud, my son" said Ormond, and, squeezing John's shoulder briefly, he stepped back to rejoin his wife.

John waved to them as the train departed. He smiled as he remembered what his mother had taught him when he was little and relatives would leave after Christmas. "You wave until you can't see them anymore" she had said. And he did just that.

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John braced himself against the wall of the train, as it rocked to the left on a sharp turn. They had left London far behind and there were now sheer cliffs on either side of the tracks. He shuddered and, glancing into a compartment for the tenth time, and no expecting much, as the last nine had been empty, was surprised to find it almost empty.

The only occupant was a tall black haired boy, who sat motionless near the window with his long legs crossed beneath him and his hands together with his fingertips pressed together. His elbows rested on his knees.

John entered quietly and knocked softly on the doorframe. "Um… is it okay if I sit in here?" he said. "Only, all the other ones…."

The boy moved suddenly, as if awaking from slumber, and turned a pair of piercing blue eyes on John's face. "Of course" he said courteously, gesturing to the empty seats.

I'm surprised this compartment was empty" John said, in a feeble attempt at conversation. The boy sat up, unfolding his lanky legs, and stretching in a feline manner. "There were people," he said lazily, "but they were remarkably irritating. I mentioned something about their combined lack of intelligence, and, as it turned out, they were all Ravenclaws. So, of course, they challenged me to a battle of riddles to defend their honour."

He glanced around, apparently surprised at the profound lack of people in the compartment. "I think I won" he said thoughtfully.

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A/N

Hi there,

Mmm.. Russian caravan tea always speeds along the writing process. ;)

That's as much as I've written for the moment, I'm still not 100% sure where the story is going although I have a slight idea. But if you have any suggestions, please review and let me know!

Posting will be a little disjointed over the next two weeks as I'll be travelling.

Hope you had as much fun reading as I had writing :)

x lostwithoutablogger

UPDATE: I forgot to mention this, and I only just remembered that I hadn't. "Wave until you can't see them anymore" was something that _my_ mother always used to tell me when I was little, and it's something I've never forgotten. From what I've heard from friends, it was something their mothers used to tell them as well. Maybe it's universal.. Let me know! :)


	3. Chapter 3: Journey in the Boats

UPDATE: Nothing changed to the story line, just a grammar correction.

CHAPTER 3:The journey in the boats

The rest of the journey continued in silence. John didn't mind, he was content with watching the scenery go past, and contemplating Hogwarts. He had heard a lot from Ettie, of course, so he knew roughly what to expect, but he suspected that Hogwarts was a place that was difficult to capture in words, and was best experienced first hand. The silence had also given him time to think about the Sorting, something that he had neglected to consider about until that moment. Apart from being fairly certain that he wouldn't end up in Slytherin, the end result, was, as yet, a mystery.

The sun was soon steadily replaced by cloud and it was pouring with rain when the train finally pulled into the station.

The rattle of compartment doors disrupted his line of thought as the train rocked to a halt and students began to pour out. John nervously followed the black-haired boy out on the platform, following suit as the boy pulled up the hood of his robes over his head. It was freezing cold, and a brisk wind was blowing, whipping his robes around his legs. He shivered and retreated further into his robes.

"First years over 'ere" said a gruff voice over the crowd. "Come on, orderly lines. What do you call that? That's about as orderly as hippogriff that's been called an ugly git".

John peered around as he was shunted into line, shading his eyes from the rain in an effort to find the voice's owner. The girl in front of him moved to the side, and he saw tall man standing under a large umbrella, his silver hair glinting in the feeble light from the rain-sodden lamps. His face was lean and angular, and both his bare arms sticking out from his oddly made robes and his face were scarred with thin white lines, as though he'd run afoul of a Whomping Willow.

He led the first years over a low bridge and down to a small jetty right on the edge of the ink-black lake, where a host of boats awaited. John scrambled into the nearest one, and held on tight to the mast, on which hung a softly glowing lantern.

Without any audible prompting form the silver-haired man, the boats began to glide of their own accord swiftly across the murky surface of the lake. John looked around in awe as the light from the lanterns cast eerie shadows around them. They rounded a bend in the lake and the first years let out a collective gasp at the blazing lights and towering turrets of Hogwarts swept into view before them.

The silver-haired man smiled to himself as he watched. He too, had had the same reaction when the boats had rounded that corner all those years ago..

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A/N

Hi there,

Sorry for the HUGE delay in chapter posting, and apologies for this rather short chapter. Endless assignments and work to get through (and I still have a in-class essay to prepare for tomorrow!)

Posting will (hopefully) be a little more regular now, as the wave of work dissipates, and I _promise_ the next chapter will be longer.

Please review and let me know what you think of the new chapter, and what you'd like to see next!

x lostwithoutablogger


	4. Chapter 4: The Sorting Hat's Song

Shivering, and drenched with rain, the first years made their way up to the huge wooden doors at the front of the castle.  
A brass knocker twice the size of John's head adorned the left door, but, despite its size and obvious heaviness, the silver-haired man lifter it with apparent ease and knocked heavily, twice.

The doors creaked open, seemingly of their own volition , much to the amazement of the muggle-born students. The boats they had been told about by other students on the train, but they were unused to what were commonplace displays of magic for the other first years, not having grown up alongside it.

John glanced around, searching for the one face that was familiar to him- the black-haired boy from the train. He assumed, that, like him, the boy was a first year. And yes, there he was, standing slightly away from the pack of students, wearing both his robes, and a supremely bored expression. The first years entered Hogwarts gazing around in awe as they left the driving wind and rain and entered the magically warmed atrium.

Hogwarts was a place of myth and legend, and it was not difficult to see why. The architecture alone would have made the castle amazing, but when you threw magic into the mix, well, it was then that you got something truly remarkable. Staircases, both moving and non, stretched far above them, seemingly with no end. Portraits lined the walls as far the eye could see, all with moving occupants. The room was lit with great chandeliers filled with hundreds of ever-burning candles, which sent flickering light bouncing off the walls, illuminating the first years as they came to halt in the middle of the room.

A tall women dressed in emerald and black formal robes, strode across the rooms from where she had been apparently waiting. "Welcome to Hogwarts." She said, her powerful voice tinted with the hints of a Scottish accent. "I am Professor McGonagall , Head of Gryffindor house. Now, the Sorting will begin in just a moment. I would like one orderly line, if you please." There was a frantic shuffling as all the students rushed to form one line. Professor McGonagall gave off an aura of someone who did not tolerate disobedience. When the scuffling silenced, she led the students to the doors as the far end of the atrium With a backward glance, as if to assure herself that the first years had not managed to get themselves lost in those few metres (it had happened before), she waved her wand and the doors swung slowly inward.

The Great Hall was the largest known room at Hogwarts, and it felt even larger to John. He felt hundreds of pairs of eyes on him as he and the other first years made their way up to the large dais at the front. Praying that he wouldn't do something stupid like trip, he kept his eyes on the floor, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, rather than on the room full of people.

The group came to a halt in front of the two leveled dais, on which stood the staff table, and a level belong a wooden stool, on which rested a battered pointed hat, the tip of which was askew, as if it had been dropped. The first years filed together so that they stood shoulder to shoulder facing the dais. They looked expectantly at Professor McGonagall as she stepped up onto the dais.

"The Sorting," she said "has been a tradition at Hogwarts since it opened. The Sorting Hat" she gestured to the hat on the stool, "will sort each of you into one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin". With a nod, Professor McGonagall fell silent. The first years, and indeed the entire school waited. And then the hat began to sing.

 _Another year, another group_

 _And I must sort the lost_

 _But fear you not, I've not forgot_

 _I remember how it's done._

 _New students stand before me_

 _While old ones sit behind_

 _Into the houses four I must sort the new_

 _As each their true calling find._

 _They may be destined for brave Gryffindor_

 _The house of fire and might_

 _None can match the Gryffindor's_

 _If it is for loved ones they fight_

 _Or they may belong in Ravenclaw_

 _The house of air and intellect_

 _Known for wit and cleverness_

 _in riddles and logic are they most adept_

 _Or perhaps they will fit in with Slytherin_

 _The house of water and ambition_

 _Where those of great resourcefulness_

 _Are most coveted for admission._

 _Or they mind find themselves in Hufflepuff_

 _The house of earth and dedication_

 _Hard workers do best in Hufflepuff_

 _And kindness completes the equation_

 _You have heard the house four_

 _You know them out from in_

 _And so without great ceremony_

 _Let the Sorting now begin!_

John listened to the Sorting Hat's song with a sense of growing amusement. Ettie had told him about the sorting, yes, but she had neglected to mention the singing hat.

The Sorting Hat finished its song to thunderous applause. As noise echoed around the hall, Professor McGonagall swept up the onto the dais, carrying a large roll of parchment. The school hushed almost immediately. The Sorting was about to begin.

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Hi there,

Hope you enjoyed the latest update :)

I really apologise for the huge gaps between posts, but things are quieting down a little now, school wise, so it'll hopefully become a bit more regular.

So! Now I've come to a park where I need some advice. What house should Sherlock (the black-haired boy in case you weren't sure) be sorted into? At the moment I'm tossing up between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor (I figured Mycroft would be in Slytherin). Gryffindor, is certainly convenient plot-wise (you'll see what I mean), but I won't be completely lost if I end up picking Ravenclaw (I have a plan).

Anyway, as soon as this is up I'll open a poll, so if you wish to simply vote you can do so, but I'd really like to get some longer answers from people, so I can justify the decision in my head. So if you can please review or PM me with your preference and reason that'd be awesome!

As soon as I've picked a house, the next chapter will be up (I've written most of it already, just need to add on Sherlock's sorting scene).

x lostwithoutablogger


	5. Chapter 5: So I remind you of a tree?

"When I call your name" said Professor McGonagall, addressing the first years, "come up and sit on the stool and place the hat upon your head"

John sighed to himself, knowing that, given his last name, and the tendency of schools to towards alphabetical order, he'd be waiting a while.

"Abbot, Hannah". A small pale girl with huge blue eyes stumbled out of the grip and ascended the steps on the left of the dais. She lifted the hat up with trembling hands, as if she expected it to suddenly yell, "boo!" sat stiffly down the stool and placed it onto her head.

"Ah…" said the hat. (The hat could talk, John noted)

"Hufflepuff!" the hat cried a moment later. The girl started up with a relieved expression, and taking off the hat she moved to sit down at the thunderously applauding Hufflepuff table.

John glanced around the room as the next few students were called. The enchanted ceiling was covered in clouds tonight, a mirror of the sky outside, although, thankfully, he thought, minus the rain.

"Anderson, Phillip" called Professor McGonagall. A short boy with dark hair and what seemed to be a permanent sneer etched upon his face, stepped out of line and sat on the stool. The hat had barely touched his head before it yelled out "Hufflepuff!". With a slightly disgruntled expression (or it could have just been his normal expression) Anderson moved to join the cheerfully cheering Hufflepuff table.

By now, John had completely zoned out, and he continued looking around the room as the names were called.

"Holmes, Sherlock" was called, and the black-haired boy from the train, who now had a name, stepped casually onto the dais. With an air of supreme indifference, he sat on the stool, and lifted the Sorting Hat onto his head.

"Oh ho!" said the hat. "Another Holmes boy… Where to put you…" The hat muttered to himself for a while, seemingly unable to decide whether to put the boy into Ravenclaw, Slytherin or Gryffindor. "I think, on the whole," the hat said finally, after a full five minutes of mumbling. "You'd do best in… GRYFFINDOR!"

John raised his eyebrows as Sherlock sauntered to a seat at the boisterous Gryffindor table. The boy's attitude was undeniably Slytherin and his alleged battle of riddles with the Ravenclaws had proven that he was by no means unintelligent. He could, therefore, understand the deliberation between the two. But why then, had the hat decided on Gryffindor?

"Hermione Granger!" was called and a small girl with a cloud of brown hair and deep brown eyes walked firmly on the platform. 'Gryffindor!" exclaimed the hat.

Still confused by the hat's decision as regards the Holmes boy, John shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was starving and almost drooling as he imagined the long tables behind him stacked with food. If magic could enable a hat to sing, just think what it could do with food.

"Patil, Padma"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Potter, Harry" The announcement of this name caused more than a little murmuring. Everyone knew who Harry Potter was, John included.

"Gryffindor!" (Deafening applause from the Gryffindor table).

John's food related musings kept him occupied for some time so it was with considerable surprise that he heard his name being called. He suddenly felt as if his legs were made of stone, and, shuffling up to the dais, he slowly climbed the stairs, he inwardly cursing his awkwardness. He picked up the hat by its worn and softened brim and, sitting down on the edge of the seat, lifted it onto his head, where it promptly fell down to cover his eyes.

"Hoomm…" said the hat. "Well then, well then…" Its voice, now John could hear it properly, reminded him of a character from a muggle book his father had read to him when he was younger. The character had been a tree, unaccountably old, and wide, and he had been quite fond of expressions such as "hoooom".

"So I remind you of a tree then?" the Sorting Hat said, with what could only be amusement in his voice. "Well then, well then. Another Watson I see," said the hat. "A lot of courage in this one, loyalty too." John listened to this with more than a little confusion. He wasn't brave.

"Well we know where you belong, don't we? Gryffindor!" cried the hat.

John lifted the hat off his head with a dazed air. He walked off the dais and down to a vacant place on the Gryffindor table to hearty applause.

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"Gryffindor first years this way" said a tall and officious red-haired boy. John stood up from the table and followed the line of students out of the hall.

Dinner had been as sumptuous as Ettie had promised and he was now full and drowsy. He'd sat next to the famous Harry Potter at dinner. He was a thin, messy haired boy with vivid green eyes partially hidden behind round glasses, and a quick sense of humor. Of course, John knew his dark history, or rather, the dark history that surrounded him, like everyone else in the hall. But he had decided to forget it, at least partially. He figured Harry would have had quite enough of fame.

The red-haired boy, who Harry's friend Ron identified as his brother, and prefect, Percy, led them up the stone staircases, pass hundreds of moving portraits and finally to a halt in front of a gilt framed portrait. The portrait was a life-sized oil painting of a plump woman with curled brown hair, and a rose pink dress.

"Password?" she asked in a smooth voice.

Percy turned to face the first years. "The password changes fortnightly" he informed them. "The new password is posted on the notice board, and you would do well to remember it, as without it you will not be permitted to enter the dormitories. Just a tip though" he said turning back to the portrait, "the trend at the moment seems to be heroes from mythology. Hercules." he added, to the woman in the portrait.

She inclined her head, and with a creak the portrait swung out from the wall to reveal the softly glowing ruby lights of the Gryffindor common room.

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Greetings young ones!

Wow it's been awhile since I last updated! (just a slight under statement)

I'd like to apologise for that. Life has been pretty hectic recently. I have exams coming up in a week, and non-stop assignments until then. However, after that I will hopefully have a LOT more time, so things will get moving a bit faster. In the meantime please review, and let me know what other characters you'd like to see, and what you think should happen. I have a few ideas already ;-)

To new readers: Welcome! This is totally a regularly updated and flawless fic..

xlostwithoutablogger

P.S For those who were wondering and haven't guessed, the character that the Sorting Hat reminded John of was Treebeard from Lord of the Rings. He was the character I always associated with the Hat.


	6. Chapter 6: Dormitory 221B

"Dormitory lists are on the notice board" said Percy as the last person stepped through the portrait hall and into the common room. "Girls dormitories on the left, boys on the right up the spiral staircase, Lights out in fifteen".

There was a rush as everyone tries to look at the pieces of parchment pinned up at once. John hung back, reasoning that he would rather wait then be crushed in a stampede. Finally, when everyone seemed to have some idea of where they were going, he moved up and checked the list.

Dormitory 221B:

-Holmes, Sherlock

-Longbottom, Neville

-Potter, Harry

-Watson, John

-Weasley, Ronald

Realising that he had no clue where dormitory 221 was, let alone B, John looked around. Spiral staircase, he remembered and headed in that direction. The staircase was stone and huge, ending in a landing on each floor, with no perceivable end. He saw the Holmes boy climbing the stairs purposefully above him, and reasoning that he would most likely know where he was going he followed. At the 5th floor the boy left the staircase, turned left down a windowed corridor and entered the door at the end.

Confirming John's speculation that the boy knew exactly what he was doing was the small plaque next to the door that read: Dormitory 221B. For some reason there was a small engraving of a magpie next to the words.

The dormitory was spacious and well lit, with lamps in brackets lining the walls. There were five four-poster beds spread out around the room with crimson and gold linen, and a large bedside table beside each one. A tapestry of the Gryffindor lion covered one stone wall, and floor to ceiling windows with red drapes took up the other two.

Under the windows were scarlet leather armchairs and it was in one of these that the Holmes boy was sprawled. Deciding that not introducing himself would be slightly rude, John held out his hand. "John Watson" he said "I guess we're roommates.

"Sherlock Holmes" said the boy lazily. "And I suppose we are".

There was a loud clattering of feet as the other three boys entered the tower. John knew Harry and Ron, but the third boy was unknown to him. He was fair headed and had a round face. His robes were askew and it seemed as if he hand already lost his tie. "This is Neville Longbottom" said Harry.

"Hi guys," said Neville, stepping forwards to shake hands and almost tripping over the rug.

Each boy's trunk stood at the end of one of the four beds, and John opened his and, deciding that unpacking could wait, simply took out his pyjamas and toothbrush.

"The bathrooms are down the hall to left" called Ron, as he rummaged, head down in his battered suitcase.

"Cheers" said John yawning.

The bathrooms were just as opulent as the dormitory, with marble sinks and individual shower cubicles, with the showerheads crafted in the shape of a lion's gaping mouth. They really drummed home the whole lion thing didn't they? What if Gryffindor's animal had not lent itself so well to decoration? What if it had been, for instance, a hedgehog? John snorted, thinking of a pudgy hedgehog adorning the Gryffindor tapestry instead of a majestic lion.

He had a quick shower, mindful of Percy's order of lights out in fifteen minutes, and pulled on his pyjamas, before heading back down the hallway to the dormitory. The other boys were also preparing for bed, or in the case of Sherlock, sitting up in bed and reading.

John climbed into bed, and had barely drawn the velvet hangings around him before the lights were extinguished.

A sliver of moonlight was visible between the hangings of the four poster, and the only sounds were the hushed breathing of the other boys, and the rustling of leaves from the trees outside.

John smiled in the dark. He was at Hogwarts at last.

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Sorry for the delays between updates.. School is starting up again and I'm getting busy :P

As always, I'd love to know what you guys think, and/or what you'd like to see next, so please review! :-)

xlostwithoutablogger


	7. Chapter 7: Moonlight wanderings

SHERLOCK'S POV

He missed his violin. He couldn't imagine now why he had possibly left it behind. He'd been getting too attached; it had become such an important and such a vital part of his life that he'd become worried. He couldn't allow himself to become so… dependent.

He sat there in the four-poster bed, trying to convince himself that the decision he had made was the right one. His fingers, resting on one of the pages of his opened book drummed a slow moving tattoo. Minutes passed.

With a sigh he flung back the covers, then, remembering where he was, gently pulled the hangings aside. The dormitory was hushed, and his footsteps sounded awfully loud as he scooped up his dressing gown and padded across the stone floor to the door.

Silently thanking the inventor of the creak-less door charm, he crept out of the room.

The castle was equally silent and aware of his already dangerous first year status, and realising that being caught wandering the corridors in his first night at Hogwarts wouldn't look too good, Sherlock walked the halls with cautious slowness. He didn't have any idea where he was headed but for the moment he was content to wander.

After some time, he arrived at the top of a stone staircase to find a large blank wall before him. He noted the unusualness of such an occurrence. Every wall in Hogwarts was covered in portraits or tapestries, yet this had been left blank.

He shook his head. He was not in the mood for mystery solving tonight. Suddenly tired he sat down on the cold floor, and his back facing the wall. He missed his violin. He missed the feeling of absolute freedom that came with playing an instrument. The knowledge that any song that has ever been written could be learnt if one only took the time.

He just needed his violin. He closed his eyes and lent back against the wall. But it seemed the wall was no longer there, and it was with considerable surprise that he found himself flat on his back in a large round room.

Moonlight streamed in through the floor to ceiling windows, illuminating an armless wooden chair that stood in the exact centre of the oddly shaped room. And on the crimson cushion of the chair was a violin.

He didn't even stop to think. The violin was in his hands and the bow was moving across the strings before he even had time to draw breath. He inhaled deeply then, the smell of violin rosin and wood filling his nose.

Music poured, if music can be said to do such a thing, out of the instrument. Arpeggios and scales modulated into full pieces and studies. Waltzes and marches flowed on from one another so smoothly the start and the end of each was indeterminable.

He held the violin and played, and it felt as if a puzzle piece had clicked into place.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

A/N

A little mini chapter between chapters :-) An idea that came to me late last night, begging to be written down!

Please review!

xlostwithoutablogger


	8. Chapter 8: Letters

Dear Mother,

We have arrived safely at Hogwarts. Love to you and father. x Ettie

o-o-o

Dearest John,

It's hard to believe that you are off at Hogwarts after all this time. It seems like only yesterday I was finding out that magic existed at all. What are your classes like? Are you eating well? Have you made some new friends? Tell me everything.

Your loving,

Mother

o-o-o

Mother,

Sherlock is settled in. He seems to have picked up a.. friend, but perhaps that word is a little premature. His name is John Watson, his father is head of Magical Law Enforcement down at the Ministry, you might know him?

Mycroft.

o-o-o

Dear Sherlock,

We thought you might change your mind. I sent the violin yesterday, before I received your letter. My love to you and Mycroft.

Mother

o-o-o

Mother dear,

The first few days here have been a little daunting. Hogwarts is far larger than Ettie led me to believe and I don't think I would have made it down to breakfast once without getting lost were it not for my roommate. He always seems to know where he is going, so following him usually procures a good result. The food is wonderful Mother, no need to worry about me slimming down. The first few days here have been taken up by orientation classes and tours, our first proper classes begin tomorrow. I hope you are well dear mother. Please send my greetings to Father.

John.

o-o-o

Hi Gran,

I think I left my robes behind. Do you think you could owl them to me? Love,

Neville

o-o-o

Hello Mum

Thanks for the cake. It's already gone, courtesy of Fred and George. Say hi to Ginny and Dad from me.

Love,

Ron

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Hi all,

Another short chapter this time.

I've been a bit distracted and busy lately, but I'm starting to get sorted! More are updates on the way I hope.

In the meantime please leave a review and tell me what you think! No words for how much they help.

x lostwithoutablogger


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